


Not to me

by xrebelwithacausex



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Comfort/Angst, Deleted Scenes, Fíli and Kíli Brotherly Love, Gen, Hurt Kíli, Hurt/Comfort, Kíli-centric, Light Angst, Protective Fíli
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:53:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24524155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xrebelwithacausex/pseuds/xrebelwithacausex
Summary: Kíli's injury is worrying to everyone, but Kíli is worried about other things. Like why his uncle has left him behind
Relationships: Fíli & Kíli & Thorin Oakenshield, Fíli & Kíli (Tolkien), Kíli & Thorin Oakenshield, Kíli (Tolkien)/Tauriel (Hobbit Movies)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 59





	Not to me

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic, so I hope you enjoy it. I've been a more casual Tolkien fan until recently, so if there's something in the books that I don't take into account, go easy on me. I hope you like this!

_“Kíli? Kíli, can you hear me?”_

The words swirled above him, teasing his consciousness as he tried desperately to grasp them, to cling to the sliver of clarity and awareness they brought.

“Fíli,” he choked out, barely aware of what he was saying. His brother rushed to his side.

“Kíli? Are you okay?” 

Kíli blinked, groggy with sleep and pain. He tried to speak, to form the words to reassure his brother that he was going to be okay, but nothing came out.

“Óin! Tauriel!” he heard. _Tauriel_. He had some vague memories, things he’d said...but no, that was a dream. Or was it?

_Do you think she could have loved me?_ Kíli realized then, with embarrassing clarity, that he had indeed confessed his love to Tauriel. The memory flushed his face with shame, and he tried to tell Fíli not to call her in, but even if he had been able to speak coherently, it was too late. She was already ducking down through the doorway, armed with herbs, the worried expression on her face clear even to the delirious Kíli. 

_Why is she worried?_ he wondered. Was she worried...about him? He dismissed the thought even before it had fully formed. He wasn’t going to let himself believe that she had fallen for him. He knew there was no hope, no reason to believe she would ever look at him like that.

“Roll up his pants,” he heard her say, then felt Fíli’s careful hands raising the leg of his trouser, and hissed as he brushed against his wound.

“I’m sorry!” but Kíli shook his head as best as he was able to, trying to reassure his brother that it would be alright. He felt Tauriel’s smooth, cold fingers press against his wound, and it took all that he had in him not to cry out, though he couldn’t stop a grunt from escaping between his teeth. Tauriel muttered something in Sindarin in a low voice, too low for Kíli, in his half-delirious state, to be able to make out. As she did so, he felt some of the pain lessen, almost as though it was escaping from his wound and into her fingers still pressed against him.

“I’ve drawn out what’s left of the poison,” she said, loud enough for him to hear. “He needs to sleep, but when he wakes, he’ll be in much better shape,”

“I got ye there, missy,” that was Óin, already next to Kíli’s head with a foul smelling concoction. Kíli tried to resist, but he was in no state to do so, and Óin had the medicine down his throat quite easily. Kíli gagged at the taste, at the burning sensation it left as it trailed down his throat, but he managed to keep the vile stuff down. His head started to spin even more as the chamomile started to take effect, and he was vaguely aware of Fíli grasping his hand as he swirled out of consciousness.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As though he had never left, Kíli woke to Fíli clinging to his hand, whispered prayers on his lips. He squeezed his brothers’ hand to let him know he was conscious.

“Kíli!” he cried. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice hoarse. Fíli rushed over to his head with a sack, propping his head up. Kíli blinked the sleep from his eyes, already feeling more alert and clear-headed than the night before.

“Thank Mahal you’re alright! We-” Fíli took a deep breath, trying to swallow back tears. “We thought we’d lost you,” his voice broke as tears leaked into his beard. Kíli stroked his brothers’ hand, lost in thought. When he didn’t respond with one of his signature easy quips, Fíli looked up.

“Kíli? You alright?” Kíli bit his lip, swallowing the lump of emotion that made itself home in his throat.

“Uhm, yeah,” he said, his mind racing back to the day they had left Lake-town. Well, Uncle Thorin and the others.

“How many days?” he asked. Fíli answered his half-spoken question.

“Three days,” Kíli nodded, chewing his lip. Three days since Uncle Thorin had abandoned him. Three days since he had called him a burden - well, not directly, but he had implied it. Three days since he learned his true worth to the quest, which was to say, nothing. Three days since he had put Bard and his family in danger, since he had burdened the others, since he had ruined the quest for Fíli and Óin. 

“Fíli,” he started, then stopped. He didn’t know how to proceed, to apologize.

“Kíli? What’s wrong?”

Kíli blinked back tears. “Uncle Thorin,” he choked out. “He left me,”

Understanding flashed in Fíli’s eyes.

“He didn’t leave you, Kíli. He wanted you to be safe,”

“He told me I would slow them down,”

Fíli cursed his uncle for being foolish enough to say that to Kíli, whose bold streak of insecurity was stronger than either his or his uncle’s.

“Kíli, he didn’t mean that. You know how uncle is. You know he’s not good at saying what he means. He didn’t want you getting hurt,”

“He was grateful for an excuse to get rid of me. I’ve done nothing but slow you down since we left the Shire. I’ve been nothing but a burden,”

Fíli’s heart ached for his brother. “Kee, look at me,” when Kíli refused to meet his eyes, he cupped his cheek in his hand.

“ _Look_ at me,” he demanded. “Why would Uncle Thorin see you as a burden, when you’re the one who saved us from the orcs, the only archer on our team, his own nephew?”

“If I wasn’t a burden, why did he leave me behind? Why did he bring me all the way here, get my hopes up, tell me I would see the great halls of Erebor,” his voice rose. “And _leave me behind?”_

“Kee, he didn’t _want_ to leave you behind. But you’re hurt. It’s dangerous for you to be out there until you’re healed,”

“You don’t know what it’s like,” he spat. “You’re always the favourite, the first, the _golden boy_ ,” he eyed his brothers’ golden hair, accentuating his point.

Fíli brushed the offending hair back, stroking Kíli’s hand. “You’re right. I don’t know what it’s like. But I want to.”

Kíli arched his brow. This, of all things, he was not expecting.

“Why?” 

“Because you’re my brother, and I love you. And because no matter how hard you try, you could never be a burden to me. And I want to understand,”

“It’s a filthy job,” he warned.

“Not to me. Not for you,”

This time, Kíli wasn’t able to swallow back his tears.


End file.
